Take It to Heart
by go-google-it
Summary: Natalia wakes up in the middle of the night, disturbed by a sound she doesn't particularly like. It was time for her to take up the handle of her sister's keeper.


**A/N: **Himaruya Hidekaz owns Hetalia and all related titles/merchandise. Plus, this is for the Hetalia Table Challenge on LiveJournal: Secret. Character: Belarus.

* * *

It all started as she slept, and it was all pulled into motion when she awoke. The cries were muffled and barely heard in the two storied home, but they traveled down the halls from the bathroom they originated in. And they came to a stop in her bedroom, lying out their business in her room, and they whispered deviously in her ears, beckoning her to awake. Initially, she moved to the right when she was on the opposite, and she brought her blankets higher up to her chin. But the cries were persistent, and they continued to make themselves known to her, only her, until whatever dreamed she dreamt evaporated from her sight.

Immediately troubled, she smoothed her hand upwards underneath her feathered pillow, and she delicately fingered a jagged piece of metal she'd found in the junkyard some months ago. Cold and dangerous beneath her pristine fingertips, she thought to what was happening, what her parents didn't know, and she rose from the bed, cautious not to harm herself while wrapping her hand around the jagged metal. Somewhat rusted, she took a dim look at it in the moonlight, and she licked her heart-shaped lips, curious as to what she might have to use it for. _Burglars? Monsters in the night? _Her father repeatedly stated that men thought women as weak, impressionable fools, to be taken advantage of, and she was more than willing to absorb the information and take it to heart. She didn't think much about his opinions if he had known about the scrap metal, but it was good enough to fight off intruders.

Her room was the last room down the hall, and her parents bedroom was located upstairs on the second floor. She maneuvered quickly out her room, without fear that her parents could hear her, and she opened the door with a loud creak, just to stare down the hall that led to her older sister's bedroom and the other that led to the living room, dining room, kitchen, and other rooms that were necessary to a home. Using one hand, she closed the door behind her, and this time she made sure not to make as much noise. And she was prepared that she wore violet slippers, close to the color of her eyes, and she made her way down the hall in the direction that would lead her to the more open space of her home. That did not mean she did not take a concerned glance at her sister's bedroom, the door forever remaining closed when she was inside.

The air was turned up in the house, and in her bones, she felt it. Goosebumps from the air, not the tension she held within, was pressed onto her skin. And she thought about what her father had said, at the dinner table, about how to defend one's self from unpredictable disasters. _Expect the worse! Be prepared! Don't let your guard down! Never, Natalia, never. _Carefully, she walked into the dining room and observed the setting, and she saw that it too, like the kitchen and living room, was abandoned and silent. The windows revealed the darkened morning, and she swallowed thickly, believing that perhaps the cries had all been a part of her overactive imagination. But then, the moment she began to doubt, she heard them again, breathing in and out of reach. And she moved out the dining room and back into the hall, there it was. The cries were muffled and quiet, and they did not harm to anyone. How, they were eager to call out to her, and she sighed, giving them consent to do so as she gazed down the empty hall, wind going along in silence.

The cries meant no harm, but they desired to be heard. That was what she thought. There was no other explanation as to why the cries would continue on, as loud and quiet as they did, without the consideration that someone, something, would hear them. Down the hall she walked, and she crept quietly as the cries increased, but not to the point that they echoed. No, they did not echo. The cries would not echo, but they reached her, called out to her. And she went down the hall; she heard that the cries escalated to the bathroom. A bathroom that was hardly used because there were others that were more glamorous and lovely to be used, but it was still in working condition. Her mother was aiming to redesign the lower level of the house, and that included the abandoned bathroom. But the woman had yet to work on it, as there were numerous and more important projects she was working on. The door to the bathroom was narrow, and inside, the room was narrow and cramped. It allowed a slim shower and a slim faucet and sink. There were laundry baskets, and in the mirror cabinet little bars of soap and shaving cream, lacking shaving razors were find. Nothing unusual; not out of the ordinary.

At the front of the door, she stood. Her right hand held the jagged metal, and she attentively placed her ear to the door, hearing the cries. Yes, this was where they originated from, and yes, this was where her unasked questions would be answered. Deciding there was no time to waste, and her parents would most likely awake soon enough, she placed her hand on the doorknob. The door was not completely closed, and she looked up quizzically. _Show no fear, _she remembered her father's words laced onto her brother's tongue, _The fear will condemn you, Natalia. _She released the doorknob and pressed her hand flat on the door itself, and she breathed in deeply, pushing it open and being blinded by a bright, white light.

"_What have you done?" _The first sentence she spoke came out in a hard and trembling tone, "What is this?"

In the right corner, between the toilet and the shower, crouched in fetal position was a young woman. The young woman was hidden with various towels on her face, and Natalia wondered where she had retrieved them. But she supposed that there were some towels in the room, for appearance's sake, and she didn't bring up the issue. The young woman was a handsome woman, and she shared few traits with Natalia. Her hair was a high platinum blond, but it was cropped short to the ears. And her eyes were similar in the bluish hint in them, but there was a dominant, neutral green color in them as well. Her skin was not as pale, normally, but on this early morning, she was sickened and cowering. Her arms were wrapped around her fragile body, stronger than it appeared, and Natalia stepped closer, unprepared but more than willing to find out what occurred while she slept in bed.

_Splash, _she stood motionless when her slipper stepped into something that was not white, brown-squared tile floor, and her stomach seemed to drop when the sound reached her ears. Unlike the cries that stirred her from a dull and monotonous sleep, this sound broke through all barriers, turned her into a mortal in seconds, and she stared down with passive eyes, hoping not to see what she suspected to see. This went on slowly; she craned her head downwards, and when she saw the flowing pool of blood easing through the dents on the floor, her eyes widened, her hands trembled. But she did not, which was a small relief to her, lose hold of the jagged metal she held in her right hand. She breathed in deeply, too startled to speak, and she turned her head upwards, to look into her sister's frightened and pleading eyes. Then, she moved backwards, using her free hand to grasp at the door, closing it tightly and silently, not as recklessly as she had been before.

"Tell me what happened." Moving from the spot, she made a trail of blood-spattered footsteps to the corner where her sister crouched in. The action to move to her, to embrace her, did not immediately come, and would not come to her for a much later time. She knew that she could not leave her in the state that she was in, and she waited, which was rare for her, until the young woman composed herself enough to look her younger sister in the eyes without lowering them.

"I was pregnant," her voice was still and flat, "and now I'm not."

Natalia furrowed her brow, "By whom?"

"He isn't around, not anymore." She sucked in breath, "I didn't tell him. Please, don't blame him."

Natalia was not in the mood to blame a person whom she had never met. It was troubling to imagine a face she had never seen, a body she had never touched, on top her sister or around her sister, doing inappropriate things to her. Besides, her sister was not the type of woman to bring men home to the family. Her sister, as she came to understand, was not the kind of woman to give off signs on to whether she had met a man. This did not mean her demeanor went through a drastic change. She was always a preppy and warm person, maternal almost, and her demeanor would seem just a little lighter when she was with a male person, whom she liked. Perhaps, just maybe, her demeanor would sink in, just a little, because their father was notoriously protective of them. He wouldn't notice this, their father, but Natalia was more than positive that their mother did. And their mother never mentioned anything that didn't bother her.

"I don't have time for blame," she let out a slow breath, "tell me what you want me to do."

Seeing that crouching in the corner was no help to them, she unsteadily pushed herself up and kept balanced on the wall and shower's glass, "We have to clean up."

"Obviously," she rolled her eyes and slumped her shoulders, "and we'll have to hide it, throw it away."

"Do you think we can keep it from Mom and Dad?" Her nightgown was stained with blood, and it swam down her legs onto the floor.

"Anya, your cries were silent enough to rise me from my bed. I don't think Mother and Father will be bothered by them." For the first time since she arrived, her sister noticed the metal she held in her hand, and her eyes widened, shock and fright expanding in them.

"Natalia," she scolded, "what are you doing with that?"

"This is no time to ask questions," she sat it down mildly on the floor, sensing that it was best to remove it from the scene temporarily, "we have to keep this hidden and throw away the evidence. Mother and Father would be most displeased if they knew what happened."

Stunned from the statement, not how she said it, her sister moved around swiftly, gathering up the blood tissue onto the carpet where it had sunk into the most. And she rolled it into a stiff ball, noticing that blood still streamed down her pale legs, and she let out a small whimper in stiffness.

"Anya," she spoke out calmly and sternly, "I can do this. You go back to your room and clean up."

"But Natalia," she caught her tears and nodded, "this is my mistake. I have to make this right."

"And right now, you're an emotional wreck, and your blood reeks." She made a face and scrunched her nose, "Please, go clean yourself, for my sake."

Anya wanted to protest, and Natalia knew it from her facial expression. The pleading doe eyes, the trembling lip, and the heaving chest that meant she was more terrified than she wanted to be, wanted to show. She was the older sister, and yet, she had no control of the situation. Came down her baby sister, the youngest of the three children, and she took the reigns without questioning her sister's power. Anya was thrust to the side, and she was forced to forfeit what little control she possessed. But this did not hurt her, this did not pain her as much as it should have, and she was almost relieved, almost relived looking at her baby sister standing so tall and assured. All things she was not on numerous occasions, and she questioned why she consistently lost her nerves during tiresome moments.

"Anya, go to your room and clean up," she said patiently, but her eyes were narrowing down into slits, making their will known, "I will take care of everything else. Mom and Dad won't have to find out, and Big Brother will never hear of this. I will not ruin his chances for something great."

For one reason Anya could not stop herself from flinching. Of course, her baby sister would think beyond their parents and onto their brother. To think of his welfare and future prospects, but she liked to think that her sister held some warmth towards her.

Suddenly, she was answered with a curve of the lips that was mix between a smile and a frown. She couldn't tell which one it was, but it gave her some hope, a delicate flower, that Natalia didn't completely hate her.

"Calm down. Now, we must move quickly."

They moved swiftly and silently. Natalia was the one to scurry down the halls without awaking their parents to grab the black garbage bags, and she stuffed the mats deep inside them. Using an old rag that was large enough, she scrubbed the tiles down with bleach, and the room smelled stale but clean. The rancid blood odor was gone from their nostrils, and Anya sighed in little relief. She was the one to hurry to her bedroom and change out of her ruined nightgown, throwing it into the black garbage bag too. When she pointed out to Natalia, _Mother will notice the carpets_; Natalia was frightfully unmoved at the statement. Their mother took care about appearances, and a bathroom without carpet rugs, as old and unused as they were, was terrible.

"We'll tell her that we threw them out,' she said briskly, "tell her that we didn't like them anymore, and that they ruined the color of the bathroom. You'll buy a new set for her bathroom, and she won't be able to go after them because tomorrow is Wednesday. The garbage truck comes at six on Wednesdays."

The two nodded in agreement, and the work was done. The bathroom was returned to its previous state, minus the carpet rugs, and the two girls went to the kitchen for something to drink. Natalia put the jagged metal to rest on the kitchen counter, and she drunk her milk in silence. Several times in that short interval Anya opened her mouth to speak, to give her thanks, but she knew that it would be a misplaced thing to do. Her sister was solemn, and her eyes revealed nothing of the thoughts that ran through the mind.

"Goodnight, Anya." She washed out her glass and walked back to her room, and Anya could not help but feel in awe as her sister floated like a listless specter in her nightgown, moderately stained by blood while holding her jagged metal to her waist. The nightgown would go unchanged, and Anya did not understand this, as the younger girl insisted that she change her clothes. But she reasoned it was because she was the older sister, the older sister would be suspected first, and after several minutes passed, she decided that it was time to return to bed. Closing up her mind to the night's events, she walked to her bedroom door, opened it, and closed it with a light click at the end. _This_, she would move forward from, she had no choice.

"_A secret can you keep it?"_ The jagged metal was returned to its rightful place, and Natalia lied awake in her bed, eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. Time to go to sleep, but she could not put her mind to rest. Outside her bedroom door, she heard her sister's gentle footsteps as she made her retreat to the false security of her bedroom. Arms folded on top of the other, Natalia thought back to what occurred, and she wondered what would happen if this got out to the public. Then, she quickly corrected herself. The man was no longer in the picture, and her sister appeared well enough to carry the burden. The mess was in the garbage, the outside garbage waiting to be thrown into the dump, and her sister was clean up now.

Yet, she remained in the nightgown somewhat stained in blood, and she turned to the side, facing the wall. Inch by inch, tick by tick, her eyes grew heavy, and her breathing slowed.

The image of her brother and father came to view in her mind, and she questioned whether she could keep this burden to herself for all time. It was a stone she would have to carry, a package she would have to nurture; it would not be forgotten. This much she realized the second the information absorbed into her mind, and she decided that it was best that she handled it, not her mother and not her father. Lying in bed, eyes closed and thought patterns mixed into an edging sleep, she was relieved that she was the one to be a part of this.

Natalia breathed one final breath and fell into a dreamless, endless sleep.

* * *

**A/N: **People! I know Ukraine has various fan-nicknames on the internet, but I chose one that I preferred. This one isn't a fan-nickname, or a hugely recognized one if it is. Sisters. I don't think Belarus is as aggressive to her sister as we might believe; she's just cold and indifferent, at times. Again, this is my interpretation. I'm most likely way off with it. Please, anyone who reads, thank you, and don't fret on leaving a review. Thank you and have a great week!


End file.
